The Heart of a Secretary
by IronPen123
Summary: It's Valentine's Day and Mr. Cromwell has been neglecting his husbandly duties, again. Will he ever be able to quit working long enough to realize that there are more important things? His wife may just be able to get through to him.


_All characters and events belong to their respective owners. I own nothing, except my own ideas.

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Hey all! It's been a while, I know. I've been so busy. I have vacation next week, though, so I should be able to update soon. For now, I've had writer's block and haven't had much time to write, as of late. So, now in honor of Valentine's Day, I shall present you all with a special treat, featuring our favorite Secretary and his wife!

_Enjoy and have a wonderful, happy St. Valentine's Day! _

_P.S. I included basically the story of Valentine's Day in this fic, short as sweet as it is; and although the chocolates are yummy; the flowers are nice; and "love is in the air", I didn't want the historical meaning of this holiday to go unsaid. _

_~IronPen_

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Night had almost fallen upon England. All would soon be asleep in their beds as another day came to a close. This day, however, was no ordinary day. It was St. Valentine's Day, a day that honored the martyrdom of a man named Valentine. He had been put to death by the Romans for marrying Christian couples. On the night before his execution, he wrote a letter to his sweetheart, signing it "Your Valentine."

Ever since then, couples all over England often signed their names as "your valentines" on this day in remembrance of the saint, as well as for their own lovers. The king himself had presented his wife, Queen Anne Boleyn, with many a lovely gift, declaring his love for her to all who would listen.

"—Is she not the most wonderful wife—?"

"—Is she not the most beautiful woman in the world—?"

"—I am indeed the luckiest man alive.—"

Such sentiments were heard from many a man's mouth this day. Only one man in particular carried on as usual.

Secretary Cromwell had sat at his desk, nearly all day long, carrying out his routinely, secretarial duties; not carrying much for the others around him, nevertheless the date. He sat all day long writing dispatches for His Majesty and other important paperwork. Master Cromwell had no time for silly little presents and declarations of love. There was far too much work to be done and if he neglected it, it would never be finished. He could not allow himself any time away from his work. It was simply out of the question. _Elizabeth will understand_, he thought. _She seemed fine enough this morning when I told her that I would be very busy today and did not know how much time I could spare. _As he thought to himself, he realized how cold, almost cruel he sounded. Was he being too inattentive?

_Of course not, _he convinced himself. He was working. He was working to provide for his wife and his son, Gregory. She could not fault him for that. Liz Cromwell knew her husband was an extremely dedicated worker. She had no complaint. He was good at what he did. She was pleased with his job and their station. Outwardly, she was the proudest wife there was. Inwardly, too, she was proud, as well. However, she would be willing to trade all that in for more time with the man she loved so dearly.

Master Cromwell sighed as he contemplated his struggle between wife and family. He wondered if every man since The Fall had struggled with this. Of course, they had. Was that not part of Adam's punishment? The punishment that all must suffer through, now, be they man, woman, or child. How to find a balance? That was the question at hand for which, sadly, he had no answer. Although he personally wanted nothing more than to be with his Liz at this very minute, he could not abandon his duties to His Majesty. Being Secretary to the king had its great advantages and privileges. He was rather grateful for his job, this opportunity. But, in circumstances such as these it seemed to be more of a burden than a privilege. The king had made Cromwell into a great something, someone of whom he could be truly proud. Cromwell could have almost anything he wanted in this position, within reason, of course; and only if it was the will of the king and God.

Still, he sometimes wished things could be as they had been before. When he and Lizzie had first married they had nothing. Yet, they had everything. They may not have had money, but they had each other and that was all that had mattered. That's all that still mattered, even if things were different, now.

Thomas had only taken a break after dinner, during the evening to watch the couples twirling on the ballroom floor. He stood there, stoic and did not join in until he felt a gentle hand upon his shoulder. Thomas knew the touch. He knew it all too well. It was his wife.

Elizabeth stood next to him in a pale blue gown, her brown eyes bright and hopeful. Her long blond hair was piled high on her head; curls cascading over her semi-bare shoulders. Her hand reached for his as she made to pull him onto the dance floor. He put up a weak struggle. Truthfully, he wished to dance with his wife, to show her off and maybe to brag slightly. He wanted to show the world that she belonged to him. Was it not Valentine's Day? Was it not a day to celebrate your love?

He had expected her to be angry with him for he had not seen her since he had rose at dawn and left her to sleep. He had only spoken to her briefly earlier this morning after he came back to their chambers to kiss her goodbye before he started the day's work, as he always did. She had seemed disappointed but she never let it show how much she hated when he left her and how much she hated to be alone.

When they stepped out on the floor, Cromwell took Lizzie in his arms and pulled her body close to his. He loved the feel of her against him. She smirked at him, her eyes narrowing under long lashes. As if on cue, the music began and the dancing commenced. She circled him, eyeing him with a look he recognized quite well. It was a look of desire, almost longing. Only good things could come from such looks. They swirled and twirled around the other couples around then. Many of the couples were slowing down and seemed to be watching Cromwell and his wife as they danced. Everyone seemed utterly amazing.

"_Lord Cromwell has a wife?"_

"_Mr. Cromwell can dance?" _

"_Maybe His Majesty's Secretary isn't as cold-hearted as we might have thought. He seems to be enjoying himself. Is that a smile, I see?" _

"_It can't be. The man never smiles. Unless, it's about money, or the dissolution of the monasteries, or something else that causes the rest of us grievance." _

Surely these, and others, were the questions running through the minds of all who were present, not just those brave enough to speak out.

Thomas could care less what they thought. They were very much inferior to his wife. He only cared how _she_ felt. Only _she_ mattered. He felt a twinge of guilt as he held her in his arms, however, as they were close to finishing their last move. He had neglected her all day long. There must be much happier wives with more attentive husbands, he realized.

Queen Anne and King Henry passed the Cromwells, as they moved gracefully on the dance floor. It seemed rather curious that most eyes were on Tom and Liz Cromwell and not on His Majesty and his wife.

When they came to their last twirl, he pulled her into him once more. Their bodies were pressed quite close together, now. They were both breathing hard and unsteady. This was not attributed to the fast pace of the dance, but rather how they felt and how their bodies reacted toward one another. The closeness they felt was indescribable. They were a husband and wife very much in love. It was apparent to all who saw them.

The music stopped playing and most of the couples on the floor had begun the scatter and walk off. However, Thomas kept Lizzie in his arms.

"_Thomas_," she whispered. "Everyone is watching us." Her face was flushed from the dance and from their contact.

"Yes, I know. I want them to watch us. I _want_ them to look at us together. I want them to know how much I love you." _How much I love you. _She couldn't help but smile at those words, meant for her ears alone.

All were watching them intently, now. Queen Anne gave the couple an approving look, as if she wished her own husband would take her into his arms at this very moment. His Majesty looked upon his Secretary with interest.

"Mr. Cromwell!" Henry's voice boomed throughout the hall. Cromwell's head shot up and he looked at his king as if he had just been caught doing something he shouldn't have been doing. Elizabeth couldn't take her eyes off her husband.

"Your Majesty?" Cromwell inquired, without moving an inch. Henry eyed his minister with certain curiosity.

"Come hither." Henry made a gesture for Cromwell to come toward him. Cromwell bowed quickly to his wife and made toward his king. Elizabeth stared in disbelief as her husband walked off the dance floor and toward his king.

Anne looked at Elizabeth with sympathy. She knew very well what it was like to have a husband who preoccupied himself with "more important things." In some ways, both women had married kings. Both women certainly married men who had great power and yet with all that power, they could not manage to spare time with their wives.

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It was not until late that night when Cromwell came to their bedroom. It was dark and he could not find his wife anywhere. He called out to her. There was no reply.

"Where have you been?" a cold voice suddenly greeted him in the dark. He sighed, almost with relief as he realized that the voice belonged to Liz. She was unhappy; worse than that, she was angry. God, he hated to see the woman unhappy, but he hated it worse when she was angry. Her temper was harsh.

She was standing beside their bed in her nightgown, arms crossed. He made to step closer to her, arms outstretched, a smile across his face. She stepped back. He lowered his arms, the smile disappearing.

"Liz, I can explain—"

"Don't 'Liz' me, Thomas. And don't try to _explain_, anything, because nothing you can say can make this any better."

"Lizzie, please, if you would just let me—"

"Why should I? You don't give me the time of day, why should I waste my time even trying to speak to you, now?" Her words stung, but they were true.

He sighed, defeated. He couldn't argue with that.

"Liz, please. I'm so sorry. I was—busy, I—"

"You're _always _busy, Thomas Cromwell," she says exasperatedly, throwing her hands up in the air.

"You must think me a cruel husband." It was not a question, but rather a statement. She sniggered, turning from him, now.

"My darling, you must understand. His Majesty—"

"Oh _yes_, is _that_ it? Well, then _of course. _Go and tend to your _king_, then. Or better yet, since you _love_ him _so_ much, why don't you leave me and go _lay with him_, eh?" Her tone was harsh, her words spoken through gritted teeth.

"I don't think Queen Anne would like that very much," he said with a small laugh.

She was not amused.

He sighed. Nothing could calm her when she was this way. If he were honest with himself he could not blame her. He had completely ignored her for most of the day and then when he was with her he practically fled from her presence when the dance was over. He deserved this. It still didn't make it any easier seeing her this way, though. On the other hand, what was he supposed to do? His Majesty was not a patient man. He had needed Cromwell to give him all the infomation he had gathered and he needed the paperwork. Thomas agreed that his timing had not been the best, but it did not matter _when_ His Majesty wanted something. Cromwell would make sure he got it when he _wanted_ it. No questions asked.

"What can I do, Liz? He is our _King_. And keep your voice down, someone might hear you and have us both arrested for treason."

She scoffed at him, then. Oh, he thought _that_ was bad. If only he knew what she was really thinking of His Majesty, now? Those thoughts were certainly treasonous, possibly sinful, too. She cared little for that.

"And what am _I_, Thomas? What am _I_? I am your _wife_. Is _that_ not good enough for you? Am _I_ not good enough for you?"

"My dear, I did not mean to imply—"

"Yes, I know. You_ never mean_ anything. Yes, you and all the other men around here. You all have your power, and your wealth, and your king, but what do _we _have? _We? _The two of us? What does _that _mean to you?"

He moved toward her then. She jumped a little, as he grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her gently, non-aggressive.

"Do not say such things. Careful of the words you speak, you do not know how they sound to my heart. _Forgive me_, Liz. _Please_, forgive me. I never want to hurt you, _ever. _You must believe that. If you never believe anything else I ever say to you, believe this: I love you. _I love you._" Liz looked into her husband's blue-green eyes, pleading her, begging her to forgive him, even if he didn't deserve it, or her.

"Thomas—"

"Lizzie, you must know that even though I serve the king, _you_ have my absolute love. _You_ have my heart, _you_. No one else compares. I must serve His Majesty in what ways he needs me, but I will always,_ always_ want to satisfy your needs before anyone else. I'm not convincing you, am I? Not that I blame you, of course. I haven't done very much to show you how much I truly, _truly _love you, have I? God, Liz. You are the very reason for my existence. And yet, look how I've treated your love. I've been unkind to you. I haven't been the kind of husband you deserve. You deserve _so much_ better than I can offer. I am _so_ sorry, my love. I have failed you, I have _failed _you. I've broken every promise, failed in every degree, I've—"

She stopped him in mid sentence by pulling him into a passionate kiss. They stood embracing and kissing one another for quite some time before they realized they both were being depleted of oxygen. Reluctantly, they broke the kiss.

"You were saying?" Elizabeth asked him, blinking her big, brown eyes at him. For the life of him, he not only could not remember what he had been saying, but also what it was they had been arguing about before, or if they had even had a lover's quarrel.

He was silent, unsure of what to say. She must have found some humor and delight in this, for she only smirked and leaned into his face again for another kiss.

When they broke apart this time, he spoke. "Am I forgiven?" he asked. Her eyes sparkled with impish glee.

"That depends, _Mr. Secretary_ on how you intend on making up for your failures." There was great implication in that simple statement. He greatly hoped that he and his wife were on the same page. "I trust you shan't disappoint."

A wolfish grin spread across his face. "My dear lady, I always perform my _duties_ to the very best of my abilities."

She smiled a real smile. "Oh really, and what of your _abilities_, Mr. Secretary?"

"Allow me to demonstrate."

He wrapped her into his arms once more and they satisfied the passion that had been so eager to be let out on the dance floor from earlier that day.

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When they were finished, they lay together, in each others arms. Thomas stroked Elizabeth's hair, while she slept, snuggled close to his side, her head content upon the beating of his heart. She was indeed much more important to him than any job he could be offered. He vowed to spend more time with her. It would be a difficult promise to keep, but by God, he would do his best to keep it. Satisfied with how this Valentine's Day ended, he smiled at his bride before drifting off to a peaceful sleep.

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_Tada! My longest fic, yet! And I'm exhausted. Let me know what you think and what I can do to make it better. Thanks and Happy Valentine's Day! _


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